


“Let us prepare to grapple with the ineffable itself, and see if we may not eff it after all.”

by notjustmom



Series: Towel Day 2018 [26]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Douglas Adams, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Towel Day 2018, just a bit o' fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 11:52:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14976605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: idiot boys and a bit of pillow talk...





	“Let us prepare to grapple with the ineffable itself, and see if we may not eff it after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> ineffable: too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words.

Even after... after everything, they were still arse at saying the words.

It wasn't because of the lack of feeling, certainly not. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

There were moments, minutes, hours when Sherlock could barely move, think or breathe simply from watching John sleep curled up next to him. He had all the language for what it was that he felt, he knew the words he was supposed to say, the words that bound him to John and John to him - but to be honest, they were too small. And he had seen them tossed around too lightly by people who had no idea what the word 'love' meant. He had heard murderers claim how much they had 'loved' the person they had just killed, parents, parents - used the word love as blackmail, bribery - what he felt for the man who just smiled in his sleep and shifted closer to him, wasn't that. And yet, he wished he could say it, or something like it, simply so he knew from John's face that he knew. Some days he wondered. Yes, even now, even as they were what they were, what they had finally become, he still had moments when he wondered why John was there. Some days. But then -

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

John kissed his chest, over his heart, which was beating so fiercely that it felt as if it could explode, or implode, and it didn't seem to matter which. "Breathe." He closed his eyes and took a breath, then let it out slowly, then opened his eyes again to find John studying him carefully. "Nightmare?"

He shook his head. "You do know, don't you? I mean - if you need me to say it, I will, if it means anything to you, I'll figure out a way so it doesn't become, I don't know, boring or tedious?"

"You could never be boring or tedious, but to answer your actual question, I do know. Of course I know."

"How?"

"How do you know I love you?"

"You're here."

"And..."

"You remind me to breathe when I forget to."

"And...?"

"I can be in a room full of people, which you know I avoid if at all possible, and be miserable, but when you catch my eye from across the room and smile at me in that way that you do. I just know."

"So."

"So."

"Any other questions?"

"Nope."

"Good. Now, go back to sleep."

"I love you, too."

"Idiot." John rolled his eyes at him, but kissed him anyway, then tucked himself into Sherlock's side again and went back to sleep.

Sherlock didn't argue, but wrapped his arm around John and eventually fell asleep.


End file.
